


Savior

by msmaccool



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmaccool/pseuds/msmaccool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mallory receives M's obituary on James Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savior

Gareth Mallory was working late on a Friday night, finally having the time and peace to scan all the paperwork, newsletters and notices that had been sent to his attention. Since he’d become head of the Security Committee, it seemed that the load had doubled in size, but not necessarily in importance. He closed the bi-weekly status report from MI6’s Q-branch and stifled a yawn. It seemed like the new Quartermaster had established himself well in his job despite his young age. M had been right, Mallory thought, and that reminded him, he was supposed to set up a meeting with her. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, he supposed, and he phrased the invitation carefully neutral before he sent it to M’s assistant Tanner. M was a successful lady, but the recent theft of highly confidential data stuck to her, and although Mallory knew she’d do everything in her power to limit the damage, he doubted the prime minister would let her.  
  
With another yawn he sat back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching for the next file. As if on cue, it was an obituary for the double-oh agent who was supposed to retrieve M’s stolen data but most likely got killed-in-action instead. Friendly fire at that. This whole case really didn’t look good for M, not good at all.  
  
Mallory quickly scanned the words (brave soldier… SAS recruit… successful MI6 field agent… one of the youngest agents reaching double-oh status… example of British bravery… giving his life for Queen and Country etc.) and was about to close the file when his eyes fell upon the black and white photograph that was attached. He sat upright to take a closer look and was hit by a feeling of grief so sudden and intense that he had to take a deep breath. He’d barely known the man, but his features were forever engraved in his mind. He knew those eyes had been stale blue, he knew that mouth could form the most reassuring smile and he remembered how comforting those hands had been after months of isolation and abuse. While that man had only been one member of the rescuing party, he was the one to actually find Mallory in the IRA warehouse and to Mallory, it had always felt like it was him who had saved his life.  
  
In the beginning Mallory had wanted to meet his rescuer in person, to thank him for his efforts—and for his kindness. But recovery had taken a long time, and after that he had to get his life sorted out again, had to set up a new career now that he wasn’t fit for duty anymore. He had still thought of his rescuer often, wondered what had become of him, but for reasons unknown to himself, he had never even bothered to find out his name. Now he knew: Bond, James Bond.  
  
Mallory read the obituary again, carefully this time, paying attention to dates and places. There, SAS in 1991, must have been one of his first missions. And there, a promotion immediately afterwards. When he had committed all relevant facts to memory, he took the photograph out of the file and put the rest of it on the trash pile. He stared at the picture for a moment, then let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and added it to the collection of bits and pieces he hid under his desk pad. He rubbed his eyes and with another yawn took the next file and began reading a memo on communal spendings for cctv.  
  
When Mallory got home that night, it was way past midnight and although he went straight to bed, dog-tired as he was, his rest wasn’t easy. Unsettling dreams took him back to Belfast, letting him relive the horror of never-ending days and weeks and months in captivity, waking him up each time before he could get rescued. His life-saver was gone.


End file.
